


treated each other

by ishta



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 18:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishta/pseuds/ishta
Summary: “Get lost Tessa.”He sounded like he’d been crying.“Oh okay, well - ”“No, don’t get lost. I’m sorry.”--they grew up, in four parts





	treated each other

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is, really. I just know that I have two exams tomorrow and I wrote this instead so...

The first time it happens is a weekend private class in Kitchener-Waterloo.

After four years of skating together, they were used to the early mornings and late nights of training, but lately they’d been practising and practising and _practising_ a foxtrot step sequence that they couldn’t quite get in sync.

After the first half hour of practising today, Scott was huffing, obviously getting frustrated.

They were tired, Tessa knew Scott hadn’t slept much the night before. Neither, for that matter, had she.

Their first junior nationals were next week and she didn’t think she’d ever felt this much pressure about anything before (except, _maybe_ , when Scott asked her whether she was going to go back to the National Ballet or if she was going to stay skating with him). But lately Scott hadn’t really been talking to her, not they way he usually did.

His usual fun and outgoing personality had started to go quiet around her. He held her a little further away on the ice in their dance holds, and didn’t go out of his way to make her laugh like he used to. Tessa was confused, and couldn’t work out what she’d done to upset him.

But then, one weekend private class in Kitchener-Waterloo _it happened_.

Her hand was clasped with Scott’s, whose usually tight dance hold was slightly looser today.

“Closer,” she heard their coach call from the boards.

Scott huffed and pulled Tessa closer to him, which was when she felt _it_ pressing against her thigh. Looking down, she confirmed that it was what she thought.

Her eyes widened and she looked up at Scott, who didn’t seem to realise yet. She wished she had a camera for his face when he did though.

He looked at her, his face flushing a bright red that she’d only ever seen on his face after a three-hour practise, or after a hockey match. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Then he suddenly pushed her away, skating quickly, _too quickly_ to the boards. After trying to re-find her balance on the ice, Tessa looked up to see him racing into the men’s change room.

She looked at their coach, who cocked her head, silently asking if she was alright.

Tessa nodded, grabbed her skate-guards and jacket off where they were lying on the boards, zipped the jacket up to her chin, and went after Scott.

He’d locked himself in the end shower. Of _course_.

She walked over to it and put her hand on the door, pushing it slightly to check that it was actually locked. It was.

“Scott?”

“Get lost Tessa.”

He sounded like he’d been crying.

“Oh okay, well - ”

“No, don’t get lost. I’m sorry.”

Tessa blinked at the locked door.

“Can you come out, please?”

She stood back when she heard the lock slide. She was right, he was aggressively wiping tears from his face.

“I didn’t want that to happen here,” he said, sounding broken.

She gave him a small smile.

“It’s fine, Scott.”

“It’s not though. It’s not _fine_.”

He was getting worked up again. She reached for his hand, holding it firmly between her cold fingers.

“It’s fine.”

He nodded, and sniffed, looking down at the hand that was enveloped by hers.

“Are you angry with me?” Tessa asked after a moment, “Is that why you’re crying?”

She thought she was good at reading Scott after four years of being his partner. But times like this made her really question that. Was he angry at her? Or himself?

She’d seen him cry before but never at weekend practise. He usually _loved_ weekend practise.

“No, God. I’m just…” he trailed off, so she squeezed his hand to prompt him to finish. Their coach had been trying to get them to start talking to each other more.

“Embarrassed,” he said finally, looking at her through glassy eyes.

“Oh…” she said, smiling slightly. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s not your fault.”

Scott sniffed again. “Yeah. It won’t happen again though, T, I promise.”

And Scott was wrong. In fact, it happened many times. And Scott was embarrassed every time; but when Tessa just stood back, let him excuse himself to the bathroom, no questions asked, he stated to feel slightly less embarrassed every time it happened.

She never judged him for it. Not once. And one day she’d even learn to be flattered by it.

* * *

 

It had been a particularly draining morning ice session when he found her in the change-room. It wasn’t uncommon that he would let himself into the girl’s room in the mornings when he knew it was just the two of them at the rink. She had her back to him, her hands to her face, staring in the small, foggy, face mirror above the sink in the corner.

The rink didn’t have the nicest facilities.

“Tess?”

She made a non-committal sound to let him know it was fine for him to stay. He sat on one of the cold seats lining the change-room, and pulled at the laces of his skates.

“Long day, eh?”

His voice sounded tired.

“Yup.” She sounded just as tired.

“We’re better though. Heaps better. Canton was a good idea, T,” he said.

She could hear the strain in his voice. The need for her to agree with him. The affirmation that their move here wasn’t for naught.

As if she didn’t cry herself to sleep every night. As if she didn’t spend every moment off ice in Canton wanting to call her mother, her sister, anyone from home. She hated her new home ( _place of residence_ , Jordan would say, _not home_ ) in Canton.

When she was on ice, with Scott, it was all fine. But at any other time. _Fuck_.

“We’re skating very well,” she said, finally, carefully.

She heard Scott sigh and walk towards her. He gently pulled on her shoulder, and she immediately dropped what she was doing to face him.

They were the same height at the moment. She’d caught up to him, much to Marina’s chagrin. (Tessa did a lot of things that were _much to Marina’s chagrin_.)

Which, unfortunately for Tessa, meant that Scott had an eye-level view of the fat tears that had gathered in the corner of her eye, and had started to fall on either side of her nose.

“Tess?” he murmured, hands immediately coming up to cup either side of her face.

She revelled in the feeling of his hands warming her cheeks for a short moment before pulling back and turning back towards the mirror to stare at reflection intently.

He noticed for the first time the small pair of tweezers sitting on the sink next to the tap.

“Tess, what’s wrong? What are you doing?”

Tessa clenched her eyes shut, and gritted her teeth. He was so _nosy_ ever since he turned sixteen. Just had to know _everything_ that was going on.

“ _Nothing_ , Scott. It’s fine. Go put some shoes on.”

“Teeesss,” he drawled, swiping a thumb over her tear-stained cheek before letting his arm fall back to his side.

“i’mfixingmyeyebrows,” she said, quickly.

“Huh?”

“Fixing my eyebrows,” she repeated, slightly slower. “Jordan told me how to. Marina said my eyebrows make my face look too manly.”

“Don’t _listen_ to her, T, she - ”

“Whatever, Scott. It doesn’t matter, it’s fine. Go away,” she pulled back, not realising how close he’d come to her.

She felt crowded, overwhelmed, slightly embarrassed that Scott had caught her.

He sighed, also stepping back.

“I’ll be in the car, T. School starts in fifteen,” he said, quietly.

She mumbled a thank you, trying to quash the guilt that started rising deep in her gut. He always drove her to school; it was their Tessa and Scott time. No Marina yelling at them from the boards, no mass of sixteen-year-old kids sweeping Scott into the most popular group at school.

She took another look at herself in the mirror, and looked at a pointy face covered in too many freckles and not enough make-up. She sighed, wondering how long it would take Scott to realise that he could have a prettier, more talented, _better_ skating partner.

* * *

 

She’d been trying _so hard_ to fit in with the Arctic Edge crowd.

It was the end of a good season, and Charlie had thrown a big party to celebrate. Scott _loved_ big parties. Loved being amongst their friends, loved meeting new people, loved having a sneaky few beers while they had a week off training.

Tessa _hated_ big parties. New people aside, she hated the loudness of the music, the way everyone seemed to act differently than they did at the rink, the way Scott wandered around laughing with _everyone_ while she usually sat in the corner defending herself from the weird older guys who always offer to refill her drink.

This party was just like every other one of Charlie’s parties. Skaters with cause to celebrate, with low alcohol tolerances from a long season of strictly no drinking. Plenty of pizza, because they had a week’s free reign on eating.

(Or at least, according to Marina, the guys did.)

Tessa found herself sitting in the corner, _like usual_ , watching Scott across the room dance and flirt with whoever happened to be near him at the time, _like usual_ , sipping quietly at her red cup and praying to be left alone, _like usual_.

Except something was different tonight. Tessa was feeling slightly less… _boring_ , that usual.

Aforementioned red cup was her fourth drink since they’d arrived just over an hour ago.

The stress of a long season pretending her legs aren’t aching every time she stepped onto the ice had been building. Not to mention that Scott had started dating random girls in his class, meaning he had less time to take her out for ice cream when she was feeling sad.

Or maybe that one wasn’t fair. Scott always brought her hot chocolate if he knew she was upset. She’d just stopped bothering to tell him when she was having a bad day.

But at either rate, Tessa was emotionally exhausted (and don’t even get her _started_ on the physical exhaustion).

Turns out excessive drinking at parties made them slightly less dreadful. She found herself loosening up, more willing to dance with Tanith and some of the other older girls in the middle of the kitchen. She kept drinking.

She looked over and saw Scott engaged in a very competitive game of pool in Charlie’s living room, with a couple of girls she recognised from school. She kept drinking.

And kept drinking.

If you asked Tessa now what happened after that, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. The next thing she remembers was kneeling on the floor in Charlie’s immaculate bathroom, with her head resting on the edge of the toilet seat.

She was sure she looked awful, tears staining her face with heavy black streaks of mascara. Her pale blue lace dress, which she’d borrowed from Jordan three weeks ago when she’d last been home, was stained with some unidentified red drink that she’d accidentally spilt on it earlier. Her hair, which she’d carefully straightened and brushed so it fell neatly over her shoulders, was knotted and pushed unceremoniously behind her ears to keep it out of the way.

As she rested her forehead against the cool seat, trying to catch her breath before the next round of drinks decided to make an unwelcome vertical appearance, she heard footsteps by the door.

A tentative knock.

“T?”

She moaned softly.

“It’s open,” she whimpered, cursing herself for how frail she sounded. “But go away.”

He laughed, opening the door and walked in to sit next to her. He placed a warm hand on the small of her back, slowly rubbing circles. She tried not to sob.

“Bit too much tonight, Tess?” he murmured, shuffling to sit closer to her.

She was suddenly aware of how close her was to her, and how awful she probably smelt, not to mention looked. She shuddered and made a move to shift away, but he moved the hand on his back around her small shoulders to hold her close.

“Aw Tessa… I’m sorry. I was a bad partner tonight,” he said quietly. She could hear the small smile in his voice.

She pressed her head into his shoulder, eyes clenched shut, and tried to stop her trembling as he held her tightly.

“You always leave me at parties.”

His hand, which had been rubbing up and down her arm, stopped for a moment before continuing.

“Well I’m never going to again, Tessa. I promise you,” he murmured over her head.

“Everything is so _easy_ for you Scott,” she moaned. “Why do you find it so _easy_ in Canton?”

He huffed a little bit, slightly affronted that she’d ask him such difficult questions even after this much alcohol consumption.

“Well… you’re the only reason I like Canton, T,” he whispered. “Let’s face it, it’s _shit_ here, but you make it so much less… shit. It’s easy because of you, Tessa.”

She sniffed, and pressed herself deeper into his shoulder. His arm around her tightened in response.

“Everything will be fine, Tess. We’re going to be fine, I’m gonna make sure of it.”

She murmured a muffled _ok_ into his shirt, breathing in the heavy smell of Scott’s cologne which barely masked his signature _Scott_ smell. It made her even dizzier.

* * *

 

It was a dirty habit; she knew it was. But Tessa had learnt that, sometimes, dirty habits was what made them better skaters.

She didn’t even mean to do it the first time; she discovered it by accident.

They’d been practising a dance spin. Tessa _hated_ spins, and so then, by extension, did Scott. It was a combination where she had to kick her leg up behind her and catch her blade with her right hand.

However, after hours of practise, her precision was not quite what it should have been for perfecting such a move. She’d sliced her hand open, not too deeply, but it stung enough to bring tears to her eyes. Scott had, of course, fussed and immediately tended to it, bandaging it superfluously and kissing the wrapping once he had done.

Tessa enjoyed that the pain was enough to distract her from the much worse pain her legs for just a few moments.

So she found herself ‘accidentally’ re-slicing her hand open whenever they reached the spins in their program.

They left for Vancouver in three weeks, and she knew she couldn’t afford to give in to the unbearable pain in her shins. The cuts in her hand helped keep her mind off it.

So yeah, dirty habit, but a dirty habit for the greater good. Who was it hurting?

Well…

 

“Tessa, can we talk for a second?” Scott had lightly brushed her upper arm with the backs of his fingers just as she was leaving (read: _limping out of_ ) the rink, her skating bag slung heavily over her shoulder.

She gave him a tight smile, following him to the change rooms.

Apparently this was going to be a private talk.

As soon as they were both out of sight of prying eyes (Marina was _everywhere_ ), he roughly grabbed her wrist holding it to her face.

“What’s this, Tess!”

He was yelling. She blinked, not expecting an angry Scott today. They’d had a good training day, she’d thought.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t give me that shit, T.”

She stared at him. A flicker of uncertainty passed through his hazel eyes, but he held her wrist firmly until she pulled it out of his grasp.

“ _Fuck_ Scott, sorry I’m clumsy. I’ll try and be better for _you_ now too, shall I?”

Tessa was sick of all the bullshit. The coaches measuring her, _literally_ , against her competitors. Sick of being told she slowed Scott down, that she _weighed_ Scott down. Sick of her fucking _legs_ that would probably be the reason Scott wouldn’t be standing where he belongs, on the top of the podium at the Pacific Coliseum.

“Tessa…” he lowered his voice. “Talk to me.”

And suddenly there were tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She hated crying in front of Scott, he always thought it was his fault somehow.

“It’s nothing Scott, it’s just nerves, maybe.”

He clenched his jaw, his hand trailing down the side of her face without quite touching it, before falling to grasp her shoulder.

“You’ve cut your hand six times this week, Tess. _Six_. Shit, by this point you need stitches.”

“Yeah, okay I’ll get it check - ”

“Tessa, fucking _talk to me_.”

She blinked her tears back, trying to stabilise her voice. She stumbled away from him, towards the seats, wincing slightly as her knees bent to lower herself.

“It’s your legs again,” he said suddenly, emptily. She looked up at him sharply, her eyes boring into his.

He walker over to her, kneeling in front of her so they were eye-to-eye.

“Tessa, you can’t keep doing this,” he said, lightly taking her right hand that was covered in rough, brown bandages.

A sob ripped through her, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her to try and contain them somehow.

“And you can’t keep doing _this_ , Tessa,” he whispered, his hand trailing lightly over her calves. “You have to tell me when they’re hurting and we’ll stop until they’re better.”

She was struggling to breathe as she trembled against his chest. He always made her feel safer.

“The Olympics, Scott. It’s only until then,” she said erratically, through gasping breaths between sobs.

He pulled away, suddenly, and she felt the loss immediately. But then he grasped her face between his hands and pressed his lips to her forehead firmly, before pressing his forehead to hers. Their breaths mingled as she tried to slow her heartbeat to match his.

“Don’t you dare tell me the Olympics are more important than these - ” he lightly squeezed her knee – “working. Tessa, you are brilliant but _God_ you are stubborn.”

She whimpered a small laugh.

“And _this_ ,” he said, picking up her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers, the only part of her hand left unbandaged, “needs to stop. I’m serious, Tessa.”

She sighed, flicking her fingers lightly against her lips to encourage him to kiss them again. Her breathing had settled down and she watched him intently as he stared back at her, his lips lightly trailing over her knuckles.

“My legs hurt less when I do it,” she finally said, her voice quiet in the cold room.

Scott shut his eyes, sighing heavily, as if trying to make a decision.

“Do we need to withdraw from Vancouver?” he asked, finally, his eyes opening to find her panicked ones.

She sat forward abruptly, her hand fisting in the shoulder of his t-shirt.

“ _No_ ,” she said firmly. “Scott, _God_ , no.”

He bit his lip and looked at her, as if trying to assess her sanity.

“Vancouver is us, Scott. It’s going to be for us. Nothing else matters Scott, okay, I’m going to be fine, we’re going to be perfect.”  
She was starting to get worked up again, and he found himself nodding, breathing out a sigh of relief, and pulling her back into a hug. He knew how much she needed Vancouver too.

He kissed her temple and whispered into her hair, “I’m serious though, Tessa. No more hurting yourself. After the Olympics we’re going to make sure you’re perfect.”

All she could do was nod, and pretend she wasn’t slightly in love with him.

And she wasn’t wrong. Vancouver was for them.

 

 


End file.
